


Antique Roman

by valderys



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Angst, Blackmail, M/M, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5494385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It may be old-fashioned of him but Horatio refuses to be left behind again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antique Roman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Graywaren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graywaren/gifts).



> Pinch hit in two days, I'm sorry this couldn't be longer or more thinky - I have all the feels for Hamlet and have had for years. Thank you for this opportunity.

"Go, bid the soldiers shoot," said Fortinbras, his eyes cold and dismissive. Just another day to him. What was a little more death to a soldier steeped in it? What did he care about the bloody scene, about those who had perished here at this ill-fated fencing bout? What did he care about the survivors?

Horatio was numb. He thought it was shock perhaps. He thought it might be grief, except surely grief was more violent than this quiet acceptance? Perhaps that would come with time. Except it was unlikely he would live to experience the full grieving process. Fortinbras was still talking but Horatio had stopped paying attention, even as a soldier roughly grasped his arm and pulled him to his feet.

Good, thought Horatio. I'm glad I won't live to feel what it is like without him. And this way, Hamlet won't blame me, when we meet again. What did he call it? Oh yes, in that undiscovered country. Because this way, it's not my fault.

***

"It's not your fault," said Hamlet, his eyes wild, his mouth strained. Horatio did not believe him, but he thought it gallent of his prince that he tried. But that was Hamlet all over - he thought anxiously about everything, turning it over and over in his mind, but he had a good heart. None knew that better than Horatio.

Hamlet walked to him then, across the poky student room they had given him at Wittenberg, as though he couldn't bear to be apart from Horatio for a moment longer, as though he could convey something more with his touch than he ever could with words. And Horatio let him, even though he knew that he should refrain, that he should start putting the distance between them that now, perforce, must always be there.

Hamlet came and put his arms around Horatio and hid his face in his neck, and Horatio returned the embrace, feeling every knob of Hamlet's spine as he gently squeezed. The man was far too thin. He resolved to feed him more, to ensure he got the proper baskets of provisions his expensive tuition fees supposedly ensured. And then he thought, in despair, that perhaps even that would be forbidden to him now.

"I have a plan," murmured Hamlet, muffled though his voice was, it sent a brief shiver through Horatio's frame, feeling Hamlet's breath on his neck.

"It's too late," said Horatio, knowing it to be true. "Rosencrantz wouldn't smirk like that if it wasn't. Guildenstern wouldn't dare make those sly comments of his, if they weren't sure. They saw us, that night in the Biergarten. I told you we should have been more circumspect. I knew that it could not come to good..."

"Hush," said Hamlet, drawing away just enough to tug them both down onto the horsehair-padded bench. "I told you I have a plan. Besides, I know those two, all is not lost, they desire the power of such knowledge. They wish to hold it over us, over me, to do them some further good down the road. They won't squander it."

Horatio stared into Hamlet's beloved eyes, even as he mused on their plight. That was him all over, of course, he was miles away now, considering and turning things over and coming up with a mad plan. They were always mad, Horatio had noticed. In one way or another.

"I suspect that they have written to my mother," Hamlet announced at last, after another minute's thought. "To tell her of my unnatural behaviour. Couched in concern for my well-being, of course, but really letting her know that they know. They'll play the worried friend. They wouldn't dare risk communicating with my father - he has never dealt well, or patiently, with toadies or flatterers. He is even less likely to respond... productively, to blackmailers, however polite."

Hamlet was smiling now, just a little, and Horatio wanted to kiss the shy curl of his lip, but didn't quite dare. Hamlet dearly loved his father, the King, anyone who knew him, even a little, knew that. 

"But, Mother, now... She'll want to keep it quiet," Hamlet continued, "And that will potentially prove lucrative to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. They could live on her coattails for years with this secret."

"But I don't want you - or Queen Gertrude - to live like that," whispered Horatio, mouth clumsy with reluctance. He didn't want to give Hamlet up, but knew he had to, and hated it. Hated that they couldn't just be Horatio and Hamlet, but had to be prince and subject as well. Hated that anyone cared about this stuff, enough to ruin lives.

In that moment, hating Rosencrantz and Guildenstern with all his heart.

"The plan, remember?" Hamlet chided gently, "It will be fine."

Hamlet looked at him then, really looked, as though he had come back to himself from wherever he flew off to in his moments of introspection. And Horatio felt like he was drowning, in his own emotions, in the tenderness he could see there in Hamlet's eyes. 

"I'm afraid however, that it is true we must part for a little while. I promise you, it won't be for long and that I'll be back at Wittenberg before you know it." Hamlet swiped his thumb along Horatio's parted lower lip before kissing him gently. It hurt, something like a sharp pain in the belly, because Horatio knew he couldn't protest the parting. But the kiss even felt like goodbye.

"I will miss you," he managed, a poor description of his churning feelings.

"And I you - but know that I will be arranging our future." Hamlet looked almost sly, and slightly guilty. "You see, I know who mother would like to see me matched with. In her heart of hearts she has dreamed of our wedding day, even, in the way that mother's often do for their sons. If I go back and pretend to woo Ophelia for a while, no rumours can touch us. You remember Ophelia, don't you - Polonius' daughter?"

He was full of satisfaction but Horatio could only feel a dread in his heart. Could paying back blackmail and hypocrisy with even more deceit really be the best way to go? Would it not instead bring further lies and troubles down upon them in the future? But as always, his heart must break, for he must hold his tongue.

"Don't hurt her," he blurted, because it turned out he had to say something after all.

Hamlet looked solemn as he shook his head. "I won't. I'll be careful." He smiled, "Trust me."

And Horatio smiled back at him helplessly, hopelessly. Because God help him, but he did. He did.

***

Horatio can't even blame Hamlet. He might have said I told you so, if the perfect whirlwind at Elsinore hadn't dragged him into its orbit, if he'd been that sort of man. But instead all he could do was to help Hamlet as best he could, fighting the inevitable, fighting to keep his head above figurative water, drawn along in his wake helplessly. It made no difference, plan on top of mad plan, and Hamlet increasingly manic and anxious by turns, never a moment by themselves, or one of true safety. The slightly vicious satisfaction, like sunlight through clouds, at Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's fate. The deep pit in his stomach that had opened up as he beheld Old Hamlet's ghost and knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

Which lead him here, to this final point. Horatio realised he could manage a kind of fierce joy, that might actually be his heart breaking, but one thing he didn't feel was any fear, which was odd really. He was taken outside to the courtyard, which made sense, of course, it would be much easier to clear up the blood from flagstones. Almost numb, he looked down upon the bodies of Osric and a lady attendant that he did not know the name of. He wished he did. They would all be in good company soon. So instead he looked up, for a last glimpse at the sky, and found he was glad in a funny way. For he had been forever being left behind, always running to catch up. And he'd hated it. All he'd ever wanted was his Hamlet, his sweet prince. But Hamlet had gone ahead, had he not? And here was Horatio following, steadfast to the end. He'd see him soon and then they would never be parted again - and maybe that was not such a bad thing.

The soldiers raised their guns.

**Author's Note:**

> The Fortinbras interpretation is from the Renaissance Theatre Company production from 1988 starring Kenneth Branagh in which Fortinbras gestures and the remaining nobles are taken out to be shot. Although you don't actually see this happening to Horatio, I think it a valid extrapolation of the production. While not my first experience of Hamlet, it remains in my memory as one of the most definitive. I saw it eleven times.


End file.
